


Echoes of Krop Tor Transcribed

by onthedriftinthetardis (on_the_drift)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6128767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_drift/pseuds/onthedriftinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krop Tor was swallowed by its sun, the Beast with it, and the Doctor and Rose were reunited, but emotions are still running high a week later when Rose discovers that the Doctor has been keeping a secret from her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of Krop Tor Transcribed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the timepetalsprompts drabble prompt, “A riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma," provided by jeeno2. By some bizarre coincidence, it also fits this week's drabble prompt, "Echoes."
> 
> Beta-read by HiddenTreasures - many thanks! I've made an awful lot of changes since then, and any errors are mine.

It was a week after Krop Tor when she finally noticed. The Doctor had always had a collection of Post-it notes stuck on the console monitor and surroundings, and it had been a week of high emotions, so it really wasn’t surprising that it had escaped her attention. 

There was one note — on a mauve Post-it, no less — that the Doctor had surreptitiously crumpled up and put in his suit pocket at the end of each day for … well, she wasn’t sure how many days, but at least three or four, she reckoned, thinking back. And yet every morning when she came back to the console room, there it was, that mauve sticky note, written in his uncharacteristically neat, Circular Gallifreyan script, stuck in the top corner of the monitor.

Now that she had noticed, Rose was dying to know what was in that note. As far as she could tell, the content of the note was the same each time, but she couldn’t read Gallifreyan, of course, and her memory wasn’t good enough to recreate the note. But she was sure if she had it in hand, she would be able to decipher it in the library — eventually. But each night she was stymied by the Doctor, who took the note with him. Should she ask him directly what it was? No, he’d just deflect her question, and next thing she knew he’d have taken them to the beach or an Incan open-air market, or to the start of an alien coup or something, just to distract her. This was going to take cunning.

So one night, around the time she usually retired to her bedroom for the evening, Rose announced that she was dying for a cuppa and a custard cream, and she was going to the kitchen. The Doctor nodded absently, and Rose sidled up next to him.

“Join me?” she said, giving him the teasing smile he’d never been able to resist, and putting her chin on his shoulder for added emphasis.

He looked up at her then, seemingly startled to have been asked. He noisily blew out a breath. “Yeah, all right,” he said with a tilted smile.

“Race you!” she said suddenly, backing away from him towards the door to the corridor. “Loser does the dishes for a week!” she added to provide additional incentive. She turned and ran down the corridor toward the kitchen, whooping and laughing as she heard him shout, “Why you little minx!” and take off running after her. It didn’t take long for him to catch her, and as he passed her, he turned back towards her and started running backwards.

“Ha! This’ll teach you, Rose Tyler, to try to beat me on my own ship!” he said with a wild grin, turned back around, and kept on running toward the kitchen.

Rose just smiled and trotted after him: he'd left the mauve sticky note on the monitor. 

When she got to the kitchen, the Doctor was already brewing two cups of tea; his favorite, Formosa Oolong, and her favorite, an alien blend similar to Darjeeling. He grinned at her and proffered a tin of custard creams. She took one and sat down, trying to project disappointment and annoyance that he’d won the race. 

“It’s not fair, your legs are longer than mine,” she groused.

“Not by much,” the Doctor muttered. 

“What was that?” said Rose, sure she had misheard. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining about that before you invited me to kick your backside,” he said with a wink.

Rose groaned and put her head down on the table. “So rude!” she grumbled. This was going surprisingly well, except that she was beginning to feel an actual smidgen of annoyance. 

“Sorry. I hereby retract the ‘kick your backside’ portion of that statement,” he said with a smile. “But the fact remains that I didn't hear you complaining before you challenged me to a foot race.”

“Hmph!” said Rose, having to work even less at feigning irritation than before. 

“You’ll still do the dishes for a week, won’t you?” he asked worriedly.

Rose smirked into the table, then raised her head and looked at him affectionately, despite herself. “Yeah, ‘course I will, that’s what the wager was,” she said. “To the victor go the spoils, yeah?”

“Brilliant!” the Doctor beamed, in excellent spirits again now that he’d confirmed getting out of a detested chore for a whole week. 

They sat and drank their tea and ate the entire tin of biscuits between them (the Doctor ate far more than his fair share), chatting and joking with each other the entire time. Finally, Rose yawned and stretched, and said, “Well, it's been a long day, ” she said, “About time I turned in for the night.”

A look of disappointment crossed the Doctor's face, but it passed so quickly, Rose wondered if she'd imagined it. 

“Right,” he said, getting up, “I’ll just get on with a few light repairs I've been meaning to do.” 

Rose panicked. “Wait!” she said, rather abruptly, and the Doctor looked at her askance. “Don’t you have something fun to do, now that you’re off dish duty?” she continued, sounding scandalized, “You said something earlier about being in the middle of re-reading some Shakespeare?” she asked in as casual a voice as she could muster.

“Weellll… that’s true,” he said slowly. “I wouldn’t want to meet the Bard unprepared, after all,” he admitted. “All right, Rose, I’m off to re-read the Complete Works. Have fun with the domestics,” he grinned, nodding towards the pile of dishes. Rose watched him as he headed in the direction of his bedroom.

Rose shook her head and smiled, quickly cleaned up the teacups and saucers and spoons, waited just another minute, and hurried to the console room.

There it was, still stuck to the upper-right corner of the monitor — the mauve sticky note. With a glance behind her, she made sure the Doctor hadn’t changed his mind and followed her, and quickly peeled the note away and put it in the back pocket of her jeans. Now came the tricky bit — how to translate it to English. 

Rose made her way to the library. She finally found the section of Gallifreyan texts, tucked in a far corner, and sighed. There were hundreds and hundreds of books, scrolls, and memory chips. 

“Could take all night just to find the right one!” she muttered.

Just then, one of the overhead spot lights moved to focus on one small area of a bookcase. The beam of light narrowed, and alighted on one book. Rose took the book from the shelf, grinning as she saw the title: “Circular Gallifreyan Made Simple: a Guide for Beginners.” This was just the thing!

“Thank you,” she said, patting the library wall in gratitude. She tucked the book under her arm, and went to her room to puzzle out the riddle at hand.

Two hours later, and Rose wasn’t even halfway through the dense little booklet. Circular Gallifreyan was, unsurprisingly, frightfully difficult to decipher. But she’d gotten the basic rules down, and was now looking through lists of letter sounds and trying to wrap her head around the way parts of the glyphs related to them. 

She knew, or at least hoped, that once the glyph had been transcribed into sounds, the TARDIS would translate them for her. She knew that the translation matrix relied on the Doctor’s language abilities to work, and it didn't work with Circular Gallifreyan, she had presumed because it was generally too technical for her to understand. But she hoped that by bypassing the written form, and at a time when the Doctor was either asleep or distracted by his Shakespeare, the TARDIS would be able to help her, as she seemed to want to. 

Finally, past five o’clock in the morning, she had her list of phonemes in order. She tentatively read the list aloud. Nothing happened. She quickly reviewed her notes and found that she had mispronounced one. She tried again, more confidently. 

And as she watched, the glyph on the note morphed into words, two short words in English: “Tell her.”

Rose felt her heart drop into her stomach. It wasn’t an answer; it was another mystery. What was he hiding from her? Was it something the Beast had said? Another prediction? And then she sucked in a breath. What if he didn’t want her to travel with him any more? Had he decided it was too dangerous? That would be so like him. Well that just wasn’t going to happen! He didn’t get to make that choice for her. She was going to stay with him, and that was that. 

Rose was working herself into a fine state, but it was late and she was tired, and she found herself nodding off in the middle of her speculative rant. She tucked the sticky note inside the book, and hid the book under a pile of assorted papers, books, and brochures for alien attractions. As she got ready for bed, she pondered the meaning of the two words on the note. 

She was brushing her hair when she had an awful thought — had she spooked him last week with talk of sharing a home and a mortgage? Flirty as they were with each other, they'd never so much as kissed while they were both in their right minds, and Rose often wondered if she was kidding herself that they could ever be together in the way she so desperately desired. 

Despite all these upsetting ruminations, she was beyond exhausted, and once her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light. 

Six hours later, the Doctor shook her awake. At least, he tried to shake her awake: he wasn’t having much luck. 

“Rose… Rooo-ose!” he said in a sing-songy voice. She snored away, oblivious to his efforts to wake her. He frowned. “Blimey, you sleep more than a Jovian Sloth on holiday. ROSE!” he shouted, shaking her shoulder, “Wake up, it's nearly eleven o’clock!”

Rose growled and turned away from him, curling herself around a large pillow. The Doctor sighed and watched her sleep. She really was adorable, even in the mornings when rousing her was like trying to wake a hibernating Gargosaur. 

“Rose, it's time to wake up, adventure awaits!” he said firmly. “And breakfast!” he added, as an afterthought. 

Rose grabbed the pillow she was wrapped around and, without looking, swung it in the direction of the offending noise. It hit something unexpectedly solid that tugged it out of her hand. Suddenly, she was awake. 

“Doctor! What are you doing in my bedroom?” she protested groggily, turning towards him. “And without knocking first? I mean, how many times!” She rubbed her eyes and looked at him reproachfully. 

“But Rose, I did knock! Four times, but no answer,” he explained hastily. “I _had_ to come wake you up, it's nearly lunchtime!” he exclaimed. 

Rose sat up, drawing the covers around her. “All right, all right, I'm up. Er… Doctor, do you mind?” she said, with a significant glance at the door. 

“Sorry?” said the Doctor in confusion. 

“‘m not wearing anything under here,” she said, somewhat embarrassed. “Can I get a bit of privacy?”

The Doctor flushed. “Right,” he nodded. “Yes, of course, I'll just…” He started to back away. “I’ll just… go warm up the time rotor.” That the time rotor didn't need warming up was neither here nor there, he thought. He retreated from the room, closed the door, and leaned heavily against the wall next to it for a moment before wandering down the corridor. “Morning things, morning checklist. What did I need to check? Oh! Right, the gyroscopic stabilizer, vacuum resonator, time vector generator, klister valve, thermocoupling ….” the Doctor’s voice faded as he continued down the hall towards the console room.

When he got there, he spent a couple of minutes running through systems checks, as he did every morning. It wasn’t until the third time he checked the monitor that he noticed that the mauve Post-it note was missing. He furrowed his brow. Had he crumpled it up and stuffed it in his suit pocket like the others and forgotten about it? That would be very unlike him, but Rose had been … unusually distracting last night, so it was possible. 

He started to rummage around in his pockets: sonic screwdriver, psychic paper, clockwork mouse, yo-yo, banana-flavored chewing gum, one pair of opera glasses, two 50p coins, three fossilized Jelly Babies, four Elastoplasts, and five wadded-up Post-it notes. He was sure he’d written one every night for six nights, so what had happened to number six? He frowned at the contents of his pockets as if they were at fault somehow, then looked up at the monitor again. Just one of the inexplicable things about traveling in a TARDIS, he reckoned. Or possibly nargles. He shrugged, wrote out a new note, and stuck it to the corner of the monitor with a sigh. Shaking his head, he went back to his morning checklist.

Rose waited for the Doctor’s steps to fade down the corridor before she leaped out of bed and padded into the bathroom. After a long shower in which she pondered how to approach the Doctor about his mysterious note, she came to the conclusion that she was just going to have to wing it. She got dressed and marched towards the console room, intent on confronting him. But when she got there, he spoke before she had the chance. 

“There you are! Just in time, there’s a weevil on the loose in Woolwich. I’ve already tracked it down, but we’d better get a move on before it hurts someone,” he said. “I just need to grab a steak or something from the kitchen and a couple of buckets, and we’ll go.” And just like that, they were caught in the middle of another mad escapade. It wasn’t until they got back to the TARDIS that night that Rose remembered the note. 

“Doctor, can I ask you something?” she said as he threw his coat over one of the coral struts.

“Hmmm?” he said, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He strode over to the console and started the departure sequence. 

“On Krop Tor … the Beast … what did it say to you?” she said, holding her breath for his response.

He looked up, startled. “What?” he said. 

“I know you met it, down in the pit, but what did it say to you? You never said.”

“Nothing,” he said, almost defensively, she thought. 

“You’d say, wouldn’t you, if it had told you something bad … like another prophecy?” she persisted.

“Rose, it didn’t say anything. It couldn’t talk,” he assured her.

“Oh ... right,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

The Doctor threw the lever to take them into the Vortex. “Do you want to, I dunno,” he dithered, “watch a film or something?”

Rose chewed on her lip, preoccupied.

“Rose?” he said gently. “I know it’s been a rough day, I thought maybe you’d like to relax a bit tonight.”

“Yeah, all right,” she said, and the Doctor nodded. 

“Why don't you go ahead to the media room, and I'll join you shortly,” he said, turning his attention back to the TARDIS console. 

“You’re not wanting to stop traveling with me, are you?” she blurted out. 

“What?!” he exclaimed, an octave higher than normal. “Of course not! What on Earth gave you that idea?” he said, and he sounded genuinely perplexed that she would think such a thing.

“I dunno …,” she said, struggling to find words. “Just me being silly, I guess.”

The Doctor stepped directly in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Rose, I promise you, nothing could be further from the truth,” he said intently.

“Yeah, all right,” she said, “Thanks for saying.”

The Doctor nodded slowly. “Good, glad that’s settled,” he said with a smile, “Because I couldn’t possibly do without you.” They stood together for such a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes, that it should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. His eyes flickered down to her mouth, and back up again, and Rose had the insane notion that he was going to kiss her. 

But the moment passed, and after giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, he stepped back and around to the other side of the console, where he got out the mallet and began hitting something on the side of the console with it. “So … dinner and a film?” he said, in between thwacks.

“Okay,” she said, and he grinned and put the mallet down. 

“Brilliant! Fish and chips? Pirates of the Caribbean?” he suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Sure, whatever you like,” she said, and he beamed at her. 

“ _Molto bene_! Did I ever tell you that Jack Sparrow was based on me?”

Rose raised an eyebrow dubiously, and the Doctor continued hastily, “Well, loosely based on me. Welllll, really, loosely based on a former me. I met one of the writers, can’t think of his name, in my fourth incarnation, while he was writing the script, and he was awfully curious about me. And then when I saw the film — well, the resemblance is obvious, isn’t it? I mean, it would be obvious, if you’d met me back then,” he nodded. 

Rose smirked and bit her lip to stop her from laughing. The Doctor cleared his throat and coughed. “Er … isn’t it your turn to make dinner?”

“Right. Yeah, it is,” said Rose, and started to head for the kitchen, but stopped and turned back around. She had to try just one more time.

“Doctor, are you sure there’s not … is there anything you want to tell me?” she said, and held her breath.

He looked straight at her, staring for three pulses of the time rotor before he spoke. 

“You took the note,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, I did,” Rose admitted. “Two words: ‘Tell her.’ Tell me what?”

“How did you translate it?” he said stiffly, jaw clenched, looking down at the console.

“I borrowed a book from the library,” she said worriedly. 

“There are over a thousand books in my native tongue in that library. How did you find the right one to help you decipher Gallifreyan glyphs?” he glowered.

Rose’s stomach churned. She wasn’t used to having the Doctor’s anger turned towards her. She’d almost forgotten just how awful it was.

“The TARDIS showed me,” she said, mentally apologising for dragging the ship into this. The time rotor pulsed emphatically.

“Oh, brilliant!” he said, sarcasm dripping off his words, “My own ship conspiring against me. I never thought I’d see the day,” he said, scowling at the center of the console.

“Don’t blame her, she was only trying to help!”

The Doctor glared at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine,” he growled. “Just tell me one thing — why did you do it?”

“Was just curious at first. I wanted to know why you’d write the same note every day, and crumple it up every night,” she explained miserably.

“Did you ever stop to think that if I’d wanted you to read the note, I would have written it in English? I mean, I do have a passing familiarity with the language. But no, you couldn’t leave well enough alone!” he shouted.

“What are you hiding from me?!” she shouted back, nearly in tears with frustration.

He stalked away from her, towards the corridor that led to the TARDIS’s interior, but Rose followed him, half running after him until she was able to catch hold of his arm.

Suddenly she found herself backed against the wall, his hands holding her shoulders firmly in place. He stared down at her, eyes wide, breathing as if he’d run a marathon.

“Doctor? Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly. He slumped away from her.

“Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry, I’ve bolloxed it up again, haven’t I?” 

“Just please, don’t run away from me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. I shouldn’t have run. I should have told you a long time ago. I would have, if I wasn’t such a coward.” He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“But you’re not a coward! You’re the bravest man I know.”

“I don’t deserve your faith in me. I don’t deserve you at all,” he said. “But I don’t want to hold back any more,” he murmured, closing the distance between them. Slowly, he tilted her chin up, bent down and pressed his lips against hers. 

Rose’s head swam with surprise, giving way to spiraling arousal as his mouth began to move against hers. She moaned and opened to him as his tongue shot out to lick delicately along her upper lip, slipped into her mouth, and moved like molten honey against her tongue. She reached up to press her hands unsteadily on his chest, where she felt the speed of the double beat of his hearts. Her own heart racing, she allowed her hands to reach around his back, pulling him closer.

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a tight embrace, lifting her easily. He turned his attentions to her neck, tracing a delicate line with his tongue up the center of her neck, then kissed along her jawline, goosebumps trailing in his wake. A persistent throbbing had started between her legs, and when he moved his lips down to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, she whimpered and writhed against him. He moaned against her neck, and she buried her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp until he broke off with a groan. 

It was all too much, too fast, but she had wanted this for almost as long as she’d known him, and it was perfect. He set her down and pulled back far enough to look her in the eyes, and she let out a soft gasp: his pupils were enormous, deep pools of black, shored by warm brown, his face the picture of utter astonishment. 

Rose reached up and tugged him down by his tie, not giving him the chance to run away again. She captured his face in her hands and pressed her mouth to his. She swirled her tongue against his lips, and he opened for her eagerly, tangling his tongue with hers, both of them melting into the long-denied contact. When they broke apart again for breath, he took half a step backward. 

“Doctor?” she said in a soft voice, as if trying to reassure a wild animal.

“You were right,” he said, drawing in a shaky breath, “You deserve to know.” He trailed his hands down her arms, took her hands lightly in his and kissed them. 

“On Krop Tor, when I went down into the pit, I nearly told Ida to tell you, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t tell her when I hadn’t even told you,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since we got away from that bloody place, and I think you know, but I don’t ever want to regret not having said the words. I love you, Rose.”

Rose threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She thought she’d known how he felt, he showed her every day, but she'd never expected him to say the words out loud. His arms came up around her, and he kissed the top of her head. 

“I love you,” Rose said, “So much.”

“Quite right, too” he said, and she could feel him smiling against her hair. 

Rose drew back to swat him playfully, and he laughed. She shook her head, but he pulled her back into his embrace and started humming in contentment. 

Rose sighed happily and smiled, making the soft involuntary noises the Doctor adored. 

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,” he said apologetically. “I've been so afraid of losing you — I still am. But … I don't want to let that stop me from being with you, not any more.” 

Rose stilled, then pulled back to look at him in astonishment. “When you say ‘being with,’ me, do you mean … you don’t mean,” she started to ask, unsure of how to continue. 

His eyes sparkled with amusement, and a reflection of the fire banked within. “What I mean is — Rose Tyler, would you care to _dance_?” the Doctor rumbled, and he stepped away from her, running his right hand down her arm to clasp her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. His thumb began to stroke hers, driving her to distraction, so that it took her a moment to realize that an answer was required of her. 

She took one look at his dark, hooded eyes, and nodded, a pleasant tension starting in her belly and dropping lower. “Finally gonna show me your moves?” she said with a coy smile, tongue peeking out, half teasing, half breathless. 

The Doctor chortled, delighted, and Rose laughed with him. “Tell you what, I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours,” he grinned, and waggled his eyebrows. 

Rose rolled her eyes and groaned. 

“Is that a yes then,” he smiled. 

“That's a yes,” she said emphatically, standing on tiptoe and pulling him down for another kiss. 

The Doctor led her to his room, where they stripped each other bare. As they came together, Rose made him forget the world outside, his past, and for a moment, his own name. And as they lay entwined together in the aftermath of their lovemaking, the enigma that was the Doctor was for once just a man.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks also to HiddenTreasures for the idea about Jack Sparrow. :)


End file.
